'His feet won't touch the ground,' said Vimes.
'You can't arrest him, sir,' said Captain Carrot, putting a fresh towel over Angua's head.
'Oh? Can't arrest him for assaulting an officer, eh?'
'Well, that's where it gets tricky, doesn't it, sir?' said Angua.
'You're an officer, sergeant, whatever shape you happen to be currently in!'
'Yes, but... it's always been a bit convenient to let the werewolf thing stay a rumour, sir,' said Carrot. 'Don't you think so? Mr de Worde writes things down. Angua and I aren't particularly keen on that. Those who need to know, know.'
Then I'll ban him from doing it!'
'How, sir?'
Vimes looked a little deflated. 'You can't tell me that as commander of police I can't stop some little ti-- some idiot from writing down anything he likes?'
'Oh, no, sir. Of course you can. But I'm not sure you can stop him writing down that you stopped him writing things down,' said Carrot.
'I'm amazed. Amazed! She's your... your--'
'Friend,' said Angua, taking another deep sniff of the steam. 'But Carrot's right, Mister Vimes. I don't want this going any further. It was my fault for underestimating him. I walked right into it. I'll be fine in an hour or two.'
'I saw what you were like when you came in,' said Vimes. 'You were a mess.'
'It was a shock. The nose just shuts down. It was like walking around a corner and running into Foul Ole Ron.'
'Ye gods! That bad?'
'Maybe not quite as bad as that. Let it lie, sir. Please.'
'He's a quick learner, our Mr de Worde,' said Vimes, sitting down at his desk. 'He's got a pen and a printing press and everyone acts like he's suddenly a major player. Well, he's going to have to learn a bit more. He doesn't want us watching? Well, we won't, any more. He can reap what he sows for a while. We've got more than enough other things to do, heavens know.'
'But he is technically--'
'See this sign on my desk, captain? See it, sergeant? It says "Commander Vimes". That means the buck starts here. It was a command you just got. Now, what else is new?'
Carrot nodded. 'Nothing good, sir. No one's found the dog. The Guilds are all battening down. Mr Scrope has been getting a lot of visitors. Oh, and High Priest Ridcully is telling everyone that he thinks Lord Vetinari went mad because the day before he'd been telling him about a plan to make lobsters fly through the air.'
'Lobsters flying through the air,' said Vimes flatly.
'And something about sending ships by semaphore, sir.'
'Oh, dear. And what is Mr Scrope saying?'
'Apparently he says he's looking forward to a new era in our history and will put Ankh-Morpork back on the path of responsible citizenship, sir.'
'Is that the same as the lobsters?'
'It's political, sir. Apparently he wants a return to the values and traditions that made the city great, sir.'
'Does he know what those values and traditions were?' said Vimes, aghast.
'I assume so, sir,' said Carrot, keeping a straight face.
'Oh my gods. I'd rather take a chance on the lobsters.'
It was sleeting again, out of a darkening sky. The Misbegot Bridge was more or less empty; William lurked in the shadows, his hat pulled down over his eyes.